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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426476">Spider Bite</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_mermaid/pseuds/space_mermaid'>space_mermaid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Black Female Character, Djamila Zabini, F/F, HP femslash, Harry Potter Rare Pair Bingo: Round 2, Infidelity, Oral Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:21:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426476</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_mermaid/pseuds/space_mermaid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa is a spider. Maybe that's why she falls for the black widow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Narcissa Black Malfoy/Mrs Zabini</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Harry Potter Rare Pair Bingo: Round Two!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Spider Bite</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I kind of fell in love with Djamila Zabini (my choice of first name) as a side character in another fic I'm working on. This pairing was on my HP Rare Pairs bingo sheet so I thought I would give them a go.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> At the loftiest of wizarding echelons, the witches saw Narcissa Malfoy as a butterfly. Fluttering around her Manor, hosting luncheons, dinners, balls. Colourful attire, perfectly coiffed blonde hair, jewels glimmering at her pale neck. But really, Narcissa was a spider. Weaving political alliances, machinations contrived as her husband’s. Attuned to subtle tugs along the web of their social network. Ambitious to the point of viciousness. </p>
<p> In the aftermath of the First War, she worked tirelessly to elevate the Malfoy name. Scourgify their reputation. In cultivating connections with the neutral families, she came across the most intriguing figure of their landscape. The black widow. </p>
<p> She first saw her in the entrance to the ministry creche, crimson acrylics spread over the tight curls of her toddler. The boy scrunched her golden dress in his little fists as he cried for her to stay. But she was on a mission. She paid Narcissa no mind in the elevator, brushing off her attempts at conversation as if swatting flies. She stepped off at the floor for Births, Deaths and Marriages without a backwards glance, leaving Narcissa blinking at the back of her flower print headwrap. The one thing Narcissa had managed to learn was her name – Djamila Zabini. </p>
<p> Within days of the interaction, Narcissa had gathered a brief biography from the informants who called her friend. Djamila Zabini was a Pureblood. Zabini was her maiden name, that she had kept through three marriages. Her husbands had all died of mysterious causes. She had only immigrated to Britain from Italy a few months before. And Djamila was very wealthy indeed. She was a dangerous actor in the small, fragile British wizarding community. Narcissa had to keep an eye on her, ensure she didn’t wreak havoc on high society. At least, that was her conscious motivation for ingratiating herself with the beautiful woman. </p>
<p> The first few visits were cordial enough. Djamila brought her son over for a playdate with Draco and the mothers sipped tea. Djamila’s past was wrapped up tight and locked away, behind walls fortified by years of defending against gossip and backstabbing. Narcissa herself was no stranger to vaulting secrets and swallowing the key. So they danced in the present, talking of their sons, and their future plans. </p>
<p> To be in acquaintanceship with Djamila meant looks across the room at parties, nods in Ministry hallways, an envelope dropped by a well-behaved owl every few weeks onto Narcissa’s dresser. She wanted more. </p>
<p> She must have been doing something right, because Narcissa was invited to Djamila’s fashion show. She sat back a few rows from the front, and she was glad for the dimmed lighting, because when Djamila walked the floor, Narcissa’s cheeks flushed with heat. Lingerie shimmered, washing hot pink to red to gold, contrasting vibrantly against Djamila’s dark skin. And it wasn’t even the scantiness that made Narcissa shift in her seat. It was the daring look in her eyes, the confident jut of her poses. And afterwards, the slight curve at the corner of her cherry glossed lips when she asked Narcissa if she enjoyed the show. </p>
<p> A benefit of widowhood was that there was no husband at home. So no man was around to notice when Djamila took Narcissa’s hand and lead her up the stairs. And when she tipped her head up to meet the shower stream, it was only Narcissa who witnessed the waterfall cascading over the peak of her breasts. And when Narcissa crawled between her thighs, breath shaking with the need to quench her thirst, no one at all saw Djamila’s ringlets fan out over the satin pillows, for both women’s eyes were squeezed shut. </p>
<p> Narcissa buried the secret in her vault. Deeper she pushed it, with every nudge of her tongue. Riveted in place by smooth muscle and kneading hands, she drank every gasp, whisper and curse. And if a single drop of the affair glistened on her lips, it was promptly licked away by Djamila’s pink tongue. </p>
<p> She paced the endless Manor rooms in the days that followed. Letters went unanswered, Floo calls cut short. It was foolish to be so affected, unbecoming of her to neglect her duties. She should have vigorously reinstated business as usual routines in case there was any hint of impropriety that hovered over her two-hour absence following the show. </p>
<p> And yet. She yearned for Djamila. Her bud throbbed and her mouth watered. She tossed restlessly on silk sheets and ached for the press of smooth skin and the scratch of sharp nails. Of course once would never be enough. </p>
<p> Narcissa preferred to think that Djamila’s unfortunate marital history was the result of a curse. As the years went by, and husbands four, five and six met untimely ends, Narcissa consoled herself with the belief that their clandestine relationship was for the best, able to avoid whatever curse was placed on Djamila’s formalized partnerships. If Djamila had murdered them though, Narcissa was not one to judge. Though she never took the Mark, the innocent blood her Death Eater husband and friends had shed marred her hands. </p>
<p> They never talked of these matters, so Narcissa could privilege whichever theory she preferred.  Djamila could have opened Narcissa’s vault if she had so desired. Narcissa would have let her, would have let her do anything. But Djamila only ever wanted to fuck Narcissa in the dead spaces of her schedule, only bite her in places covered up by underclothes. And though it was reckless and crazy and self-destructive, Narcissa wished that the black widow would take her for her own, if only she could taste every one of her secrets. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please review! You know it makes my day :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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